An Immortal Love
by Sunhawk1
Summary: A crossover between Ranma 1/2 and Ah! Megumi-sama. In this story, both Ranma and Akane were once gods, until an accident happened... Anyways, this is my first published attempt at a fanfic... any corrections/comments are much appreciated!
1. Prologue (New and Revised!!)

AN IMMORTAL LOVE  
  
A Ranma 1/2 and Ah! Megumi-sama! crossover, with most of the emphasis placed on Ranma 1/2.  
  
by Shea McIntee, deus_ex_machina@hotmail.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any sort of copyright to either Ranma 1/2 or Ah! Megumi-sama, no do I have any right to receive any sort of material benefit from my borrowing of ideas from the two series. I worship their creators, and beg them not to strike me with lightning bolts from heaven for my presumption... unless I do a horrible job, in which case I should probably commit seppuku to restore my honor. I'm merely attempting to show my supreme worship of, and, let's be perfectly frank, my complete obsession with, anime, and Ranma 1/2 in particular.  
  
An Immortal Love - Prologue  
  
Long ago, two gods were very much in love. One, Akane, was a rather fiery-spirited young goddess with a bit of a temper, and a penchance for hammers. The other was Ranma Nekoro, a rather unassuming cat-god. Oh, there were other cat-deities, usually goddesses. However, this one focused somewhat more on healing than on the more typical cat-deity-that-protects-women, or the cat-deity-that-tears-the-place-up (not to mention any NAMES, mind you... I have no wish to offend - ahem! - certain... ah... beings...), but was tall and somewhat robust, with eyes the color of a placid sea, rather than the customary green or gold, albeit that he did, being a cat-god, have the slitted pupils. His hair was perhaps one of his more distinctive traits, being black in the main part, but with reddish-orange stripes running through it, much like some breed of tiger. Three of the red streaks continued an inch or so into his face, terminating in his tattoos, as required for all divine beings. His eternal love interest looked rather more human than he, and bore absolutely no resemblance to Thor, although she did, for some reason, share his fondness for hammers. She had liquid brown eyes, and hair the deep blue of falling night.  
  
One day, they had a fight. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Usually it was over a brand-new patient of Ranma's, placed in his care courtesy of Akane's temper (and hammer), and he would typically attempt to persuade her than there were other ways to deal with ahem difficulties than to bash them, but this wasn't the point currently being heatedly discussed between the two. No, this was over their second most favorite bone of contention; his refusal to fight. She argued that he was most certainly capable of learning, being both possessed by a fairly flexible mind, and a well-conditioned and flexible body, and thought that it would certainly improve his outlook on life, and, knowing his weaknesses, she casually mentioned that he might be able to become good enough to help her, and suggested that he was perhaps too afraid of being hurt or shown up to attempt it. He shot back that he saw no need for fighting; his art was one of healing wounds, not causing them. Besides, he said, he didn't have the temperament to be a butcher. And such a tomboy as female obviously didn't need any help in pounding some poor sap.  
  
This was, of course, a mistake. People who fight for a living often can be rather sensitive of being called certain names, and often 'butcher' ranks somewhere on the list. And, unless one knows how to either fight really well or run really fast, one shouldn't try to get someone who might conceivably earn such an honorific upset at you.  
  
Trust me. Would you go up to Mike Tyson and casually ask him if he preferred his ears sauteed or deep-fried?  
  
I thought not.  
  
Regardless, since Ranma was so kind as to imply that SHE was a BUTCHER, Akane was obliged to show him the error of his ways, ideally with a Large Blunt Object, one of which she happened to have, somewhere on her person.  
  
Observers now proceed to watch an interesting variation of the Whack-a-Mole games one sometimes sees in arcades, with Akane wielding a large hammer and trying to his the rapidly-dodging Ranma. This only served to make Akane even more angry, as 1) He was obviously NOT crushed yet, and she therefore couldn't show him how to act, the stick, in her mind, being a far more effective incentive than the carrot for the hapless god, 2) he was able to dodge her every strike, thus proving that he had the potential to be a really good warrior, and was obviously refusing out of sheer spite, and 3) It was therefore obvious (to her mind), that he was doing on purpose, to make her look bad.  
  
Eventually, both frustrated and worn out, she quit. She could go on longer, she felt, but there wasn't much point to it at this time. She flew off in a huff. Perhaps later, maybe...  
  
She smiled a satisfied smile. Yes. Tonight, she'll set him straight on the whole matter. 'Butcher, indeed! Hmmph!'  
  
------  
  
The next day, another battle broke out on the god-demon front, and Akane went to work, hoping to work out some frustration on the battlefield, Ranma having been conspiciously absent last night.  
  
She frowned. She really hated to leave for a battle on bad terms, or without teaching him another lesson on manners. Oh, well. Maybe he'll learn by the time she got back.  
  
-------  
  
Ranma was keeping himself busy, writing notes on some new ideas for treating heart disease, and trying not to worry.  
  
He couldn't help it, really. He had to admit that Akane was quite a good warrior, who could take care of herself, and usually wasn't given to foolish chances, but there was always a little thought in his head whenever she fought, saying 'On a battlefield, anything can happen... and no matter how good a figher is, there is always room for mistakes...'  
  
He tried his best to ignore it. He really did. It wasn't really his fault; he always seemed to get these nightmares where she dies, or worse, that she dies when he could prevent it, because he refused to help her.  
  
He shuddered a bit, and tried to force himself back to the task at hand, but still waiting for her to return.  
  
------  
  
She was absolutely exhausted. The battle had gone quite well. The demons were routed for the day, and she was looking forward to getting back, and taking a nap. Make that a LONG nap. On the other hand, change that to a long HOT bath, than a nap. Perfect.  
  
A bugle sounded behind her, and she turned around. 'Great. The other side still wants to play.' She gripped her hammer and waited with the other gods. The demons looked in even worse shape than she did.  
  
'Go figure... what do they think they're trying to do? At this point, they're practically worthless.'  
  
------  
  
Ranma was walking towards the field of conflict. The battle was probably over for the day, and Akane probably could use some medical assistance, not to mention others as well. It should be about over by now, anyway. Arriving at the site, he heard a horn, and saw the other side making a final approach. He frowned. That was odd... usually they had given up by now...  
  
He looked around for Akane, and saw her in the vanguard, looking tired, but still able to fight. She was ok, though.  
  
His frown deepened. The demons didn't really have much of a chance, really. Why didn't they just cut their loses and leave? Unless... they had a plan... they were quite good at cunning pl-  
  
He saw it. Several of the 'dead' bodies behind the line moved and crept towards the forces of heaven. His eyes widened in alarm, and he ran forward-  
  
And tripped. Was tripped, rather. By a dying demon. He struggled hard to free himself; he had to let them know. He finally wrested himself from the stubborn demon and raced forward-  
  
Just in time to see a flaring red knife slam into Akane's back, not 20 feet away. He cried out, feeling the incredible pain - no - agony flare through thier link to each other. He collapsed as if he was a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut, as he felt the cursed blade suck hungrily at her soul. Beside her, the other gods fared little better. Suddenly attacked from an unexpected direction, they struggled and fought, the battle suddenly seeming much more even than before.  
  
He crawled towards Akane, desperate to see her. He could feel her growing weaker, moment by moment. He reached her side and pulled the knife carefully out, gently summoning his magic, fighting the burning red flames that raced through her with his tear-streaked blue light. He poured his soul out, fighting to hold her together, reaching out-  
  
And reaching a stalemate. He wouldn't let her die, and the curse of the demon blade refused to let her go.  
  
It was over. The infection was too tenacious. The best he could do was stave off the inevitable until he died of shock. He gently rolled her over and gazed into her slightly-glazed eyes. and spoke gently to her, ignoring the chaos around them.  
  
"I'm sorry, Akane, I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. Please, please don't-"  
  
Her eyes cleared, and she grabbed his neck and brought his head down.  
  
"Don't be. You did what you could-"  
  
He shook his head and continued to cry.  
  
"Oh, shut up," she said, and gently kissed him.  
  
They clung together for a long moment, and then, reluctantly separated.  
  
She frowned in concentration, and he could feel the magic surging through her.  
  
"Wait for me, love... I'll come back, I promise."  
  
"Wh- what? What do you mean?"  
  
She smiled a gentle smile, one of the few he'd seen on her face, and faded away in his arms, leaving behind only a small heart-shaped locket made of silver and gold, opened, with their portraits in miniature inside.  
  
He stood, and stiffly, almost mechanically, picked up the locket, and, ever so gently, closed it and looped it around his neck. He felt no grief. He would grieve later, for the rest of his life. But now, he wanted payment. For her passing, they owed him a debt which they would never be able to pay, except in blood.  
  
****  
  
The first emotion is shock. This can't be happening; a denial of reality.  
  
As the shock wears off, it is replaced by grief: she's goen; how could she be gone?  
  
Often, grief turns into self-recrimination: why couldn't I stop it, why couldn't I save her?  
  
And then the match is lit, and anger starts to burn: He did it: he must pay. I must be the one exacting the price; I will have her vengeance.  
  
Anger, that burning emotion, has often been compared to a raging bonfire, and, sure enough, anger can flare up or die down, and is passionate in nature, similar to that other emotion, love. However, unlike a fire, anger doesn't always die without constant fuel.  
  
Sometimes, anger can feed off itself, growing hotter and purer with every breath, driven by the emotional anguish and passion of a human soul. Eventually, if the will is strong enough, if the emotions run unchecked, something happens.  
  
Flashpoint.  
  
In a single instant, unreasoning rage turns to an almost icy calm, a frozen veneer of calculating hatred over a raging sun. Suddenly, the world changes, and there is but one purpose to existance:  
  
Death.  
  
Payment.  
  
Determination.  
  
At that point, anger welds with the pure will of an anguished spirit focused on a single goal, and thus forges, in the mind of a trained individual, an almost irresistible weapon.  
  
It is said that love is the most powerful force in the universe. This is not, strictly speaking, true. PASSION is. Love isn't always needed; anger can serve. And at no time is love or anger more powerful than at the point of it's birth, or at the point of it's death.  
  
The death of the meaning of life turns the passion of a single spirit to ash. No reason to live, no reason to go on. The failure of love, as love's object dies untimely. The ultimate source of an icy grief.  
  
Soul of Ice.  
  
The birth of rage from the ashes of the fallen phoenix; A new reason to live, a reason to survive, just a little bit longer: to serve the highest level of justice, to collect a debt far greater than any can survive.  
  
Soul of Fire.  
  
True power comes for the melding of opposites. Yin and Yang. Hot and Cold. Life and Death. Positive and Negative.  
  
Together, opposites formed from a single soul agree on one thing:  
  
Shi...ne.  
  
****  
  
A voice spoke out softly, cutting through laughter and exclamations. It was quiet, but one could hear the ice in it, lying over a white-hot flame, yet never melting. With it, the temperature seemed to drop thirty degrees, and the sky, although inappropriately sunny, seemed to grow darker.  
  
"Shi... ne."  
  
He wanted - no, needed blood to quench is anger.  
  
Their blood.  
  
And lots of it.  
  
He had never really told her about his early interest in the arts of war. How, when he was a young god and deciding on what he should do, he had tried to fight, but found that, although his teachers told him he had great potential, he didn't FEEL like a fighter, and could rarely bring himself to actually hurt someone. So, he followed the path of a healer, learning to take joy in genuinely aiding others, and where his lack of desire to hurt anyone, even demons, wouldn't stand in his way. She'd never really understood such a viewpoint, really.  
  
But now, he didn't care about that. He WANTED to hurt them, now. He wanted a river of blood to drown his tears. And he wanted it NOW.  
  
He pulled up his anger, narrowing it and focusing it until he had a raging bonfire inside him. He fed it with his grief, his sense of loss, and his tears. He channeled his fear of losing her, and tossed the last remnants of his power on it, forcing the bonfire higher and hotter.  
  
He slashed his arm with a finger covered in energy, and fed the flame with his blood. He hurled all the resources of his mind into it, and gave it purpose.  
  
His last thought, before his vision went red, was the desire to die with his teeth and claws covered in the blood of his enemies.  
  
------  
  
The demons still speak with fear of that day. They were exultant, proud of their ambush that killed three of the gods, and evened the battle to the point where they might actually WIN, when, out of nowhere, a giant tiger, with eyes of blood red and stripes of black and red the same hue as it's eyes, and covered with a crackling aura that spate with black and red energy, raged through their ranks, killing three of their assassins (the fourth was slain by his attempted target), and went on to kill seven more before collapsing from his wounds.  
  
Suffice it to say, the attack was called off, and the demon who's bright idea the ambush was was still screaming over his failure 10 years later.  
  
That was what REALLY made the demons shudder.  
  
------  
  
Ranma Nekoro still couldn't really remember a lot of what happened when he woke. He re-re... remembered her... dying...  
  
He fought for control, briefly losing it, and then grabbing firm hold of it.  
  
'Breathe in... breathe out...'  
  
He waited a few minutes, and then tried to remember again, this time trying NOT to remember... her.  
  
He didn't succeed.  
  
------  
  
Three days later, they managed to get him to calm down, mainly by the expedient of drugging him and using magic to suppress his emotional response totally. It still didn't work all the way, but it was a start.  
  
------  
  
Two weeks later, they gingerly started to wean him off the drugs and slowly release the spells. A month after that, they pronounced him as cured as he'd ever be, and released him.  
  
------  
  
Two days later, he was back, after he tried to kill himself by immolating himself with his magic. It didn't really work, but they took it seriously enough.  
  
They kept him longer this time, and three months later, he was cautiously released, although they kept an eye on him for a long time after that. Although they didn't realize it, they didn't need to worry about him any more. Not about killing himself, anyway. He had decided that suicide was the easy way out, even if they let him do it.  
  
He thought that revenge would be a far more suitable hobby than practicing building fires with his body.  
  
He rarely spent any time practicing his healing arts, sacrificing much of his lore of non-battlefield-related medicine, and studied fighting with a passion that far surpassed that of his youth. His fervor took many by surprise, and he was soon after approached by a trio of war gods that had been present at the battle, and, remembering his... enthusiasm... at the time, asked him if he wished to change his field.  
  
To the surprise of many who once knew him, he accepted.  
  
He founght in many battles, using his fear, his rage, and his hatred as he fought, sometimes fighting as a man, and sometimes as a giant tiger. After centuries had past, his emotions blended, until all that was left in his mind when he fought was fury. Regardless of his form, he fought with strong slashes of his hands/claws, often enhanced with a cutting edge made of ki and magic, and his movements were lithe and quick, often resembling that of an enraged tiger. And thus the neko-ken was born in the legends of both gods and mortals.  
  
Not all of his life focused upon fighting, although it did take up a large amount of his time. He spent time on other activities, taking hours to carefully paint a picture, often of Akane, and might spend days when he wasn't fighting playing sorrowful tunes on a crystaline flute, made of smooth sapphire, with a blue-wood core. And sometimes his tunes were hopeful, because he still remembered her last words...  
  
'Wait for me, love... I'll come back... I promise.'  
  
****  
  
Kami-sama summoned him to his office. He arrived, with some trepidation. He couldn't remember anything he'd done... maybe there was another battle to fight.  
  
"Come in, sit down, Ranma," Kami-sama said.  
  
He sat. There wasn't really much else he could do, really.  
  
"You've been isolating yourself for quite a while now, and I've decided that it would do you some good to spend some time among others."  
  
He sighed. One of THOSE talks again. Great.  
  
"Ok... I'll try to get out more... and-"  
  
Kami-sama smiled. It was a rather gentle smile, but it rather unnerved him, nevertheless.  
  
"No, I've decided that you need a more abrupt departure from routine than that... I think that you should spend some time in the mortal world, living among them, and maybe learning to smile again."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"Oh, and you'll be living as a mortal for a few years. You'll need something to do, and living a mortal life will help your outlook."  
  
"Hey, wait! I-" he protested.  
  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Ranma sighed. It really wasn't going to do any good, really. Kami-sama didn't seem to be open to persuasion, so he might as well bear it. He didn't have to like it though. He tried to slam the door on the way out. It didn't oblige him. He fumed, and stomped off to lock up his home.  
  
------  
  
Back in his office, Kami-sama smiled. On his screen was a message:  
  
'0694525Salvage and incarnation in progress.'  
'0694527Mortal incarnation complete.'  
'0694536Mortal incarnation complete.'  
  
His smile twisted a little into what, on anyone else, would be called a smirk, but in this case, it being Kami-sama, the idea would never hold water. He smirked, nevertheless. 'It's about time... I'm going to enjoy watching them... this will be quite the surprise.'  
  
It was times like these when his job didn't seem quite so thankless, after all.  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
End of prologue.  
  
This is just a prologue; it sets the scene for the meaty part that I hopefully will be able to write soon...  
Suggestions? Questions? Ideas? Death threats? Send any C&C to deus_ex_machina@hotmail.com : Feedback is welcome. I may not use it, but advice is always a good thing.  
My webpage is www.geocities.com/thesunhawk. However, the anime and fanfiction sections aren't up yet... maybe they'll be up by the second week in July, if I ever get around to it...   
This is my first published fic, although I have a couple others I'm considering sending out when I'm satisfied with 'em...  
  
Rewrite notes: Ok, I thought that this needed a bit of tweaking, and I wrote an interesting little bit later that I just HAD to insert (guess which bit ) shrug I don't think I'll change anything else. The fanfiction section of my website is up and running, although there aren't very many fics up yet... I've been distracted by RL... school... sigh 


	2. Chapter 1 (Full thing!)

An Immortal Love (A Ranma 1/2 and Ah! Megumi-Sama! Crossover)  
Chapter One  
  
by Shea McIntee (Sunhawk)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any sort of copyright to either Ranma 1/2 or Ah! Megumi-sama, no do I have any right to receive any sort of material benefit from my borrowing of ideas from the two series. I worship their creators, and beg them not to strike me with lightning bolts from heaven for my presumption... unless I do a horrible job, in which case I should probably commit seppuku to restore my honor. I'm merely attempting to show my supreme worship of, and, let's be perfectly frank, my complete obsession with, anime, and Ranma 1/2 in particular.  
  
An Immortal Love - Chapter One  
"Be Careful What You Wish For..."  
  
Ranma stared up at the stars in a cloudless sky from his vantage-point on the Tendo roof.   
'It's been almost a month since Jusendo, and the wedding, and everyone seems determined to keep things from changing. Shampoo, Kuno, Kodachi, Ukyo, Pop, Mr. Tendo, Akane, Nabiki, everyone else; they all act as if it's "business as normal" around here. Kuno still attacks me every morning. Shampoo is still stalking me and trying to scare everyone else away. Uccha- Ukyo still practically forces okonomiyaki with hearts on it down my throat...'  
He chuckled somewhat ruefully. '... not that she really needs to force me to eat...'  
He frowned. 'I never even got any sort of apology from any of them for wrecking the wedding... I still donno if I would've wanted to, but they went way to far with the explosive food, baring steel, and Kodachi's black wedding dress. Shampoo claimed it was her duty and right, and Ukyo just told me that she was 'doing it for my own good'...'  
He sighed. 'I know I love Akane; after what I went through at Jusendo, I know that beyond anything else. When I thou-thought that she... died...'  
He paused, and a slow tear, glistening with reflected moonlight and sorrow, trickled down his cheek.  
He shook himself. 'Man, do I sympathize with Mr. Tendo now... I know I love her, but I don't think either of us are ready to marry yet. I'm not even sure if she loves me. I mean, she hits me all the time and yells at me, but then she'll turn around and LOOK at me...'  
He grimaced. 'Before I even think of marriage, I need to solve my current... problems, and preferably without hurting anyone. I can't see any real way to do it, though; Ukyo is unpredictable, and could either try to hunt me or Akane down, or accept it; Shampoo and the old ghoul won't give up without a fight, and Kodachi...'  
He shuddered. 'Kodachi is just plain crazy. I wish things would get better for Akane and me...'  
He stood and stretched, and jumped off the roof. A decent sleep would help his mood.  
  
*****  
  
In an office, plain and white, with a picture of a globe on one wall, the sun shone through a window, highlighting a desk, a chair, and a figure. The light seemed to create a halo around the chair and it's occupant, as he sat in front of a terminal. On the screen were a pair of listings.  
  
'Name:Ranma, cat-god, war-god''Name:Akane, fire goddess'  
'formerly patron of healers''war-goddess, deceased'  
'Status:Incarnate''Status:Deceased/Incarnate'  
'Locus:Japan, Tokyo, Nerima''Locus:Japan, Tokyo, Nerima'  
  
He smiled, and changed 'Incarnate' and 'Deceased/Incarnate' to 'Active'. It was time for two of his children to finish growing up... again. Some guidance may be needed for the two...  
His smile broadened, and he called up another file, with a locus similar to the ones before. Yes, she'll do admirably.  
  
*****  
  
He stood on a field scarred with battle. Around him were signs of a struggle of epic proportions. It seemed quiet to him... too quiet.  
He held his heart in his arms; he could feel the life ebbing with each frantic beat. Inside he cried and raged, feeling helpless. Outside, though, he stood, a silent monument to utter dispair, a lone tear making it's way down his face. He could hear a voice begging her to stay, begging death to wait, begging anyone, anything to listen to him.  
He gathered in his rage, his fears that now seemed reality, his love of her, his hatred of he who had done this to her, his despair of living without her, and, throwing back his head, screamed her name in a voice that rocked the heavens.\  
But it made no difference. He felt her grow cold and heavy.  
His heart... was no more.  
  
He sat up sharply, panting harshly.  
'Just a dream, just a dream.' he thought. Ever since Akane nearly died at Jusendo, he'd had nightmares about what might've happened...  
He shuddered. 'Just another nightmare... just another nightmare,' he told himself, trying to calm down.  
He looked outside. Still dark; he should get back to sleep.  
After tossing and turning for a few minutes, he drifted off to more pleasant dreams, of living with Akane in peace.  
  
*****  
  
Pain.  
It was everywhere; the entire world seemed focused on agony.  
She could dimly feel him, holding her.  
She could feel his tears, hot and wet, dripping on her face. Crying.  
She wondered, distantly, why he was crying. She was the one hurting.  
Maybe he was crying for her.  
That would make sense, she supposed.  
She tried to tell him to stop crying, but the words seemed... distant... alien.  
The pain seemed to grow less, and she felt as if she was floating, yet she could still feel his arms around her. The world seemed much dimmer, and for some reason, someone had apparently turned off the sound, since that, too, was growing fainter.  
Sleep.  
She was tired. She didn't want to leave him, but she felt so sleepy.  
  
****  
  
Morning started in the Tendo household with a yell and a splash, followed by the sounds of vigorous fighting.  
Akane blearily opened her eyes and glanced at an alarmclock. Far too early. She stuffed her head back under her pillow and resumed her attempts to catch the sandman.  
Five minutes later she gave up, and went downstairs to get something to eat.  
  
A little black piglet dragging a pack many times larger than itself came out of the closet, muttering to itself. If one could perhaps understand what it was saying, one would have heard something about 'barbeque' and 'Canada.' It wandered out the open door, down the hall, and entered the bathroom.  
Two minutes later, it was nowhere near the bathroom, the house, or even in Nerima anymore.  
  
"Come on, Ranma! We're going to be late for school, you stupid baka!"  
"Alright, alright! Jeez... settle down, will you?"  
Akane ran out the door, followed by a fence-walking Ranma.  
  
****  
  
As they got to school, both Ranma and Akane noticed a common sight; a certain kendoist with a slight ... ahem... delusional mentality standing in the middle of the courtyard, bokken upraised as if he were posing for some painter for an incredibly tacky portrait entitled 'Delusions of Grandeur.'  
As he saw Ranma, Kuno promptly burst into song... err... speech.  
"Foul Sorcerer, on this day you shall taste the true righteous wrath of the noble Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, isasmuch for I have been ordained by the shining heavens to rid the world of your black magics ere the sun shall set, leaving myself triumphant over your evil ways!"  
Ranma rolled his eyes. Typical Kuno. This just made his day complete.  
"Whatever, Kuno. Can'tcha think of something original for once?"  
Kuno suddenly disappeared, and reappeared in front of Akane.  
"Be not worried, o beautious Akane, for once I defeat that foul saotome, your light shall shine force in all it's glory and splendor, and then, at last, I will allow you to date with me!"  
He paused, probably to take a breath.  
"But, soasmuch as you will be grieved at the sorcerer's demise if you are still under his spell, I will free you with a stroke of my mighty blade (get your minds OUT of the gutters, berks), and, in gratitude and love towards my most noble self, you will go out with me."  
Akane snorted.  
"And what makes you think-"  
Kuno, for once not waiting for her rely, lunged at her with his bokken, and she hastily dodged back, settling into a combat stance.  
"Kuno, what the hell do you think-"  
WHAM!  
Ranma's arm lashed out, sending Kuno flying... as usual. Akane turned, ready to yell at Ranma for interfering with HER fights. Truthfully, she almost exected it by now, but that didn't mean she liked it.  
And then she stoed.  
Kuno was flung against a tree, unconscious. This wasn't articularly noticable; it happened all the time.  
But the tree in question was almost 50 feet away. THAT was unusual. And the four parallel horizontal slashes across his chest, showing up as red against the while hakima, was most definitely out of place.  
She stared at Ranma. He seemed perfectly normal, and acted like this was nothing strange.  
"C'mon Akane; let's go before we're late."  
  
****  
  
The huntress stalked forward, intent on her prey. Her weapons in her hand; a box of chinese take-out in her right hand, and a small flask in her left, filled with a light yellow liquid, swirling with sparkles. Perfect.  
She advanced towards the school. It was lunchtime for her prey, and he never refused a meal. All she would have to do is get it too him.  
Then he would be hers.  
She crept up to a tree, and then made a great leap.  
"Nihao, Airen!"  
Ranma spun to see one of the last people he wanted to see.  
'Would a nice quiet lunch with Akane really be too much to ask for?'  
Shampoo landed and bounced towards him, trying to execute the Secret Female Technique: the Amazon Glomp. However, her target wasn't there.  
She blinked, and tried again.  
Missed again.  
She frowned, and shrugged. She leaned towards him and held out the takeout box.  
"Shampoo brought too delicious ramen for Airen!"  
"Err..." Ranma said, desperately looking at Akane for a save. No help there; she was busy fuming.  
"No thanks. I'm not really that hungry."  
Both Shampoo and Akane stared at him.  
"Airen feel sick? Ramen help. Eat!" Shampoo said, trying to force the ramen down his throat. He HAD to eat this!  
Ranma's nose twitched. A small piece of his mind was screaming 'DANGER' and, for once, he listened to it.  
"No, really. I'm just not hungry."  
Shampoo changed tactics, and tried to give him the Secret Technique: The Gaze of Kawaii, but he simly frowned, pushed her away, and walked over to Akane.  
"C'mon; let's get back to class."  
And he walked the rather startled girl away, towards the school, leaving behind a comletely shocked and disappointed Amazon.  
She frowned. This was something that that pervert-girl did, she was sure. She would have to resort to more... drastic measures. Tonight, before Great-Grandmother came back from her trip to the village. She probably wouldn't aprove.  
  
  
****  
  
Akane sat at her desk, doing her english homework. Today was... odd. First there was Ranma's reaction to Kuno. He had never hit him that hard, and hadn't drawn blood before... and what had happened? Ranma didn't have a weapon in his hand, and he wasn't under the neko-ken, so how had he done that?  
And then there was lunch. Ranma had never refused free food before. Maybe he was coming down with something? She scowled. Stupid baka.  
Suddenly she heard a 'clunk' and looked up to see a small round cannister on her desk in front of her, making a slight hissing sound. She frowned. Where had that... come... from?  
She felt so tired. Maybe a nap would...  
'Gas!' Someone's... yawn trying to... gas...'  
As her vision blurred and faded, she saw a familiar sillhouette aproaching her.  
Then all was dark.  
  
****  
  
Kasumi stuck her head in the living room.  
"Ranma, could you tell Akane that dinner is ready?"  
He sighed and stood up.  
'Always me. If I'm unlucky, she'll be dressing just as I get there and she'll deck me. Great...'  
He knocked at her door. No sense in provoking something.  
No answer. He frowned. She went in there only fifteen minutes ago. He knocked again.  
He cracked the door open.  
"Akane?"  
Nothing.  
He opened the door and looked around. Nothing. She wasn't there. He was about to check the bathroom, but then he noticed the open window.  
He frowned, and crossed over to her desk to shut it, and stopped. There was a note on her desk, addressed to him. With a funny sinking sensation in his stomach, he read:  
  
Ranma,  
If you wish to see her alive, come to abandoned warehouse beside empty lot two blocks south of Nekohanten alone.  
  
The missive was carefully written, and was on a plain sheet of paper. He scowled and carefully put it back on the desk. Another kidnapping. This was all he needed.  
He raced downstairs to where Kasumi was setting the table for dinner.  
"Ranma? Did you find Akane?"  
"Nah, someone kidnapped her."  
"Oh, my. Please be careful, Ranma."  
He ran out the door and down the street, looking for the warehouse mentioned in the letter. It was getting dark out, and he had a bad feeling about this.  
  
He arrived at the warehouse with the sun almost all the way down the horizon. It was only a warehouse by courtesy; it was obviously old, quite broken down, and was small for such a building. As he entered, he spotted a shadowly figure in a hood standing in the middle of the empty building.  
He walked slowly towards it, his senses wary.  
"Nihao, Airen," came Shampoo's voice from the hooded figure, and delicate hands pulled the hood off to reveal purple hair framing a familiar face. Her voice was softer and sadder than usual, and seemed to hold a tinge of desperation in it.  
Ranma stopped.  
"Sh-shampoo? What are you doing here?"  
His voice became suddenly harder.  
"Where's Akane?"  
She made a faint gesture off to the left, and he saw an intimately familiar silhouette lying limply on the ground. His gaze sharpened, and, straining, he could just make out the fain rise and fall of her chest. His gaze snapped back to Shampoo.  
"Shampoo-" he began, his voice underlaid with a faint rumbling.  
"Ranma come back home with Shampoo, yes?" Shampoo asked.  
"I told you, Shampoo, there's no way in - "  
"Ranma belong to Shampoo, not to pervert-girl!"  
"Listen, -"  
Shampoo suddenly drew out a small ovoid object, resembling a largish chicken egg, and threw it on the floor, where it cracked and fell apart, bursting into flames as it did so. Ranma backed up warily.  
'Great... what now?'  
The flames turned dark purple, and suddenly reached almost to the ceiling. Ranma started and shifted into a defensive stance as a figure stepped out.  
A day ago, Ranma would be out the dor by now, for the figure, radiating an almost visible aura of pure unadulterated evil, looked like a humanoid cat, except with patches of scales on it's arms and legs. It stood amost six feet tall, and it's clawed feet seemed to sink into the smoking floor.  
It turned to Shampoo. "What do you require, mortal?" the figure hissed.  
"I free you... you do service for me, yes?" It was more a demand than a question.  
The demon snarled. "What is it, then?"  
She pointed imperiously to Ramna.  
"Make Ranma mine!"  
"Huh?" was all Ranma had time to say, before a deep burle blast washed over him, sapping his strength and eroding his will. As the world grew hazy around him, he heard them still speaking.  
"Mere freedom is not enough payment... I require a mortal... playtoy... to seal the bargain."  
Ranma could almost hear the indifferance in Shampoo's reply.  
"Take pervert-girl. Shampoo have no more use for her."  
"Very well. I accept"  
Ranma had one last thought before swirling darkness overwhelmed him.  
"No!"  
  
Shi-men was exultant. Three thousand years ago, his was almost fatally wounded in an ill-advised ambush on the kami, and he fled to the mortal plane to recuperate. Unfortunately, in his weakened state, he was easily captured by an amazon sorceress, and had been imprisoned in an egg.  
But now, a mortal, and an amazon at that, had broken his prison, and had given him a mortal soul for his entertainment.  
"Very well," he smirked. Such a small task, really; to bind one mortal to another's will was a piece of cake to such as he.  
He frowned in slight concentrationg, and threw his spell at the shining figure, glowing with the light of his paralysis trap. A brilliant flare of light marked the impact, and he smirked again at the mortal who had summoned him.  
"It is done."  
And then he heard it, a low growling sound; the sound that had haunted his restless dreamy existance while he was imprisoned, and which had been the focus of his fears ever since that long-ago battle.  
The sound that he had heard once, right before a successful ambush turned into a complete failure. Right before he...  
He whirled suddenly, and then stared in horror as a long, low figure paced out of the flaming light, and for the second time in his existance Shi-men felt absolutely terrifid.  
It was larger than any mortal tiger now living, and it's stripes were red and black, rather than the more common orange or white. It's teeth and claws gleamed as if they were polished, and it's stance radiated power and fury.  
But it's most distinctive feature was it's eyes, which blazed a burning blue, seeming to burn with unsupressed rage and freeze with an impacable hatred. Those eyes made an unspoken promise.  
Shi... ne.  
He tried to run, tried to escape the fate he saw in those merciless orbs, but was frozen in lace, somehow paralyzed by the sheer intensity reflected in his slayer's soul.  
He never saw the lunge and blurring strike that slammed him into the wall, cracking it, altohugh he had time to feel it. He barely had a second more to confront his own sudden mortality before the follow-up with the claws that tore apart his body and shredded his spirit past any redemption, and sent him to oblivion in pain.  
  
Ranma-neko roared his triumph; Here was one of the ones who killed Mate, and now he had his revenge.  
He paused, and sniffed the air. He heard two heartbeats, one quick with panic, one slow with sleep. He smelled furylustdesperationfear in the air, and something... familiar. Tantalizing.  
He sniffed.  
... Mate? Mate was here? Mate was alive??  
He shifted and raced over to a limp figure. Gathering Akane in his arms his vanished, bound for a safe place. He felt better than her ever had for the ast 3,000 years; his Akane was alive!  
  
Shampoo stood, stunned. It seemed that Ranma was at last her's, and then...  
Well, first Ranma was replaced by the largest cat she had ever seen, and then suddenly there was a blur, and the demon was dead against the wall, and then the tiger had paused, looking around.  
She thought that maybe it would go after her next, but instead, it seemed to sniff the air, and then bounded towards Akane, somehow blurring into a pig-tailed figure by the time he reached her, and he icked her up and faded in a flash of light.  
The last impression she was was that of three red marks glowing on his face and cat-slitted eyes.  
  
***************  
  
Author's Notes:  
Okay... I had to do some revisions here, and there are a couple parts that still seem a bit rushed and rough, but I think this'll do for chapter one. C&C welcome, deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com , www.geocities.com/thesunhawk. Reviews appreciated.  
Shea McIntee 


	3. Chapter 2 (teaser revised!)

AN IMMORTAL LOVE  
  
A Ranma 1/2 and Ah! Megumi-sama! crossover  
  
by Shea McIntee, deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any sort of copyright to either Ranma 1/2 or   
Ah! Megumi-sama, no do I have any right to receive any sort of material   
benefit from my borrowing of ideas from the two series. I worship their   
creators, and beg them not to strike me with lightning bolts from heaven   
for my presumption... unless I do a horrible job, in which case I should   
probably commit seppuku to restore my honor. I'm merely attempting to   
show my supreme worship of, and, let's be perfectly frank, my complete   
obsession with, anime, and Ranma 1/2 in particular.  
  
An Immortal Love - Chapter 2 (teaser only for the time being)  
  
Ranma watched Akane's face, as he'd done for the past two hours.   
Curled around her sleeping form, he yawned silently and laid his head back   
down on the pillow. He felt so tired, but he didn't want to close his   
eyes, for fear that this was just a dream. He had dreamed of this for so   
long, and he wasn't... wasn't...  
  
He yawned again, and the pinched himself awake, and winced; he'd   
forgotten his nails were sharper.  
  
When he'd transported here ('here' being the guest room at the   
Tendo Dojo), he'd still been in his semi-feral state, and when he came out   
of it, the memories sealed away when he became mortal cascaded over him.   
He had wept, in both grief and joy; grief at the suffering of centuries,   
and joy that that suffering was over.  
  
When he felt he was sufficiently composed, he sent to his older   
brother, half brother, really. They shared a father, Ptah, but while   
Ranma's mother was Sekhmet (who had once been moderately disappointed in   
his lack of interest in the arts of war), Korin was Bast's son. They'd   
been raised together by both mothers and father (although said father never   
did anything like changing diapers), and were quite close.  
  
[Hey, Korin!]  
  
The reply, after a moment, was sleepy.  
  
[Whaddya want! Who is this, anyway?]  
  
There was an uncharacteristic mental smirk in Ranma's 'voice.'  
  
[Why, that's no way to treat your brother...]  
  
There was a silence at the other end.  
  
[Ranma?! So what've you been up to?]  
  
[I found her, Korin!]  
  
[Found her? Found who?]  
  
[Akane, you dolt!]  
  
There was another pregnant pause, and Ranma grinned as he invisioned   
Korin's jaw dropping.  
  
[The girl you lost? Huh? How-]  
  
[I don't know, but she's here!]  
  
Ranma's mental voice was almost giddy with excitement.  
  
[So when are you going to bring her over to meet me?]  
  
Ranma paused.  
  
[I need to settle things here first... it'll take a while. How about   
you come down here instead?]  
  
[Oh, allright... tomorrow?]  
  
[Well, I donno...]  
  
[Please? Pretty please? With a luscious young virgin pining for you   
on top?]  
  
(OoO... insert kawaii-puppy-dog-eyes here.)  
  
[Alright, alright already! By the way, have you said hello to our   
mothers yet?]  
  
[Ummm... well... no?]  
  
[You'd better soon, or else they'll be... disappointed with you, to   
say the least]  
  
Ranma winced. He didn't know which was worse; Sekhmet's "practice   
sessions" or Bast's lectures.  
  
[Yeah, I know, I know. I'll talk to them soon.]  
  
[Fine, now let me get back to sleep!]  
  
[Now, brother, we both know you weren't sleeping... you know, you should   
get some sleep before tomorrow instead of trying to chase tails...   
(dramatic sigh) My brother, the hentai]  
  
[Hey! What exactly are you implying here?]  
  
[Oh, nothing... 'night]  
  
[(grumble) 'Night.]  
  
Ranma smirked as he relaxed and lay back. Completely tired out, he   
promptly fell asleep, still curled around the unconscious girl. With his   
tail wrapped around her wrist, he dreamed of happy times unclouded by grief   
for the first time in 3,000 years.  
  
Beside him, another dreamed, as memories long lost returned to her.  
  
****  
  
Sigh... I'm working on the rest of the chapter right now (might be out later   
today, If I don't fall asleep [yawn]). However, I'd thought I'd repost the   
teaser, except with the missing text from the brackets that ff.net deleted   
(grrr...) inserted as best I can. I don't have the original file for the   
teaser, so the mental dialogue might be a bit stilted...   
comments/criticism deus_ex_mach42@hotmail.com 


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